A/N: Hi, yes, hello. I'm alive, I'm alive. I'm sure everyone is just wondering where the hell I was, what I was doing and if this fic will end up like the last one.

First of all, I'm sorry. I'm not a consistent person, and I'm trying to undo the habit of being inconsistent. This fic is very much alive, just hibernating for… *looks over notes* Dear god, over nine months. Aside from that, I got busy with college and pulling myself together.

Second of all, I still can't promise fast updates. I'm not a fast writer, but I'll try to follow a schedule. Chapter 3 should be in the works as soon as this chapter is released.

Lastly, I wanted to thank you for your time to read this fic. It was a fun idea that formed in my head that I wanted to put to paper. Your support, even if it was just a read or a comment, matters to me.

Thank you for your time.

Chapter 2: Thought You Died

Last night didn't go particularly well for the Trailblazer. Aside from eating dinner late, she couldn't even get a proper shut eye afterwards. By the time she was able to sleep without any fear of having more of those "memory nightmares," it was half past five in the morning. So, when March 7th began doing roll calls for breakfast, as she does every other day, she was met with a groggy groan from a bundle of pillows.

"Yoohoo, Stelle? You're later than usual. Come on, food's gonna go cold if you stay there." She called out from the doorway. Her answer was another groan.

Dan Heng noticed the commotion as he came out of his room. When he approached them, he put a hand on her shoulder. "March, let her be. It's likely she didn't get enough sleep after last night. There's always more food for her when she gets up."

"Thank you!" Was her muffled response from under the covers, still not moving from her bed.

March gave a sigh and decided to back off. "Okay. I hope you get enough rest."

"I'll let Himeko and Mr. Yang know." Dan Heng assured her before he and March went off towards the dining car of the Express.

With the Trailblazer alone in her bedroom, she could finally continue to sleep. She closed her eyes, waiting for the consciousness to slip. Then a minute became ten, ten minutes became 30, and she still hasn't fallen asleep yet despite only having four hours of rest. With a slightly frustrated sigh, Stelle rolled out of her mattress and onto her feet. For some reason, her body felt excessively hot and stiff. It's like she can't seem to take a break from feeling sick after getting a shocking experience from the Simulated Universe being overloaded. She stretched to release any tension and ignored her body's pains while she headed for her closet to get dressed. Her closet opened and she was greeted by rows of jackets, blouses, and skirts around a full body mirror. She had just taken off her shirt when she noticed something had changed once again. This time, it was her physique.

She has heard from moms talking to their kids that if they got enough sleep, they would grow taller – but in this case she had grown almost a full head from her previous height. Her shoulders had broadened a little and her torso and arms had gained muscle. Even her belly had noticeable abs. Was she always built like this?

Stelle narrowed her eyes as her hand drifted from her shoulders down to her waist, discovering familiar marks around her torso: Scars, by the hundreds. And a surprisingly wide variety of them, ranging from bullet scars like the ones on her head to former lacerations, and even a long scar trailing across her chest – one too precise to be a bladed weapon. She turned to check her back and sure enough there were more of these battle scars, with some of these looking like claw marks.

'Could my body be reverting back to what it used to be? I've never had these scars before…' She thought as she continued dressing down to something lighter to wear. Stelle remembered her meeting with Kafka back in the Luofu after taking down Lord Ravager Phantylia, when they played their "truths and lies" game. She mentioned her ability of Spirit Whisper: being able to subdue certain effects like Blade's mara as well as memory wiping - with just her voice and a key phrase. Perhaps Kafka did wipe her knowledge of the scars? But it doesn't seem to affect physical bodies. Stelle can still remember every time she changed her clothes and there wasn't a single time she saw any scars on her body, nor a time when she had grown a few more inches until now. Maybe this was a Remembrance thing, but Fuli was all about memories, not physical manifestations of past bodies.

Stelle finished dressing up, settling with a black tank top and shorts. She added the light blue garter around her left thigh to complete her get-up. Feeling comfortable with her outfit, she left her room to join the Express crew at the dining car. The dining car, also known as the buffet car, was quite like the Parlor Car where most meetings take place except instead of couches it was a buffet that seemed to run on its own, as well as circular tables complete with chairs, plates, utensils, glasses and a vase of different flowers from different planets in the middle, most likely for guests who visit the Express. For now, only one table was occupied.

"Good morning." Dan Heng greets from his seat, eating his fried rice from a bowl. "Mr. Yang and Himeko said they'll join us in a bit. I hope you slept well?"

"Got as much as I could." Stelle answered with a shrug. She walked to the buffet table and grabbed a plate, greeted with swathes of meals and delicacies. She took her breakfast, gravitating towards waffles in maple syrup, bacon, and eggs. She took her seat between Dan Heng and March and began to eat with the rest of the crew. Though as she devoured her waffles, she glanced to see March staring at her while she ate her pancakes.

"…What?"

The pink haired girl blinked for a moment. "Did you get a growth spurt?"

"What do you mean? I've always been taller than you." Stelle raised an eyebrow.

"I know that." March rolled her eyes, as she looked at the archivist and pointed towards the Trailblazer with her fork. "Notice anything weird?"

The two of them shared a confused look. Stelle raised both eyebrows while Dan Heng looked at her up and down and nodded. "Huh. I didn't think I'd grow that taller." Stelle commented.

"No doubt from your encounter with Fuli." Dan Heng deduced. "Which begs the question, why did They show up at all? Surely that would've gotten the Space Station riled up from the appearance."

March nodded. "Oh definitely. Even Herta was even looking for you when you left."

Stelle sighed, shaking her head. "No thanks. I'd like some time away from anything weird just to make sense with these memories. Long story short, I was approached by the Aeon for being an anomaly…whatever that meant. And I got overwhelmed with different memories all at once." She continued eating her waffles, though the sweetness of the pastry felt numbed in her taste buds.

The pink haired photographer ate another piece of her pancake as she thought. "What does the Aeon of Remembrance even consider an anomaly?"

"Something that shouldn't be part of this universe?" Dan Heng asked. "Stelle, what exactly did you see in those memories?"

"I…" The Trailblazer faltered. "I don't know. They were just flashes when I got them." She tapped her finger against the table. "I did get one complete memory though, last night when Dan Heng found me in the bathroom."

March 7th tilted her head. "Wait, Dan Heng didn't tell me this. What was it about?"

"March, she didn't say anything to me either."

"As I was saying." Stelle butted in. "The memory came up to me last night like a dream. It was about this guy in a checkered suit in the middle of the desert. He was taunting me about some poker chip, showing it off like he'd just won the lottery."

"What made you nauseous then?" March asked.

"...he shot me in the head."

The peaceful quiet died down to deafening silence as the two of them began to register what she described, their eyes widening at every second.

"Wait, if that means… how can you still be alive?" March exclaimed. "If he shot you then you shouldn't be walking right now! Maybe he missed?"

Stelle shook her head. "I wish I was joking, but I can prove it." She moved her bangs from her face to reveal the scars on her forehead. She had never seen Dan Heng nor March in such disbelief before.

"That is…wow." March gave a nervous laugh.

Another silence falls between them. She was starting to get fed up with it. "I think this is a perfect time to switch topics, don't you agree?" Stelle commented to lighten the mood. The two nodded, even though both were still reeling from that can of worms.

"...So, we're going to Penacony next, right?"

"Indeed, we are." A new voice entered as Himeko entered the dining car, turning to the Trailblazer. "Good morning. Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, just the occasional headaches." Was her answer, waving her hand as if waving off the gravity of her situation. "When are we leaving?"

"Well, we should be leaving soon. Pom-Pom said the supply run was finished, but some of the researchers wanted to talk to you about garnering the attention of Them." The navigator responded. Seeing her groan in annoyance made Himeko chuckle. "Of course, they'll have to wait when we're finished with our vacation. If you need anything, just let us know."

After a sigh of relief, the three continued to eat their breakfast quietly. Himeko was about to take her seat, but the Trailblazer had already finished and left the table. With the time she had left before the jump to the next planet, she wanted to get some answers.

Officially, the Stellaron Hunters and the Nameless are sworn enemies. That was made abundantly clear with the uneasy reaction (and infamously distrustful response from Himeko) with Kafka before and on the Xianzhou Luofu, even Stelle was put off by Blade's stoic demeanor. But after meeting the Hunters themselves, most of the time they really didn't mind Stelle. Hell, Silver Wolf is technically an online friend of hers. So, who better to ask about her past than the faction that has jump started her Trailblazer journey to begin with? Whipping out her phone, she sat down at one of the couches of the Parlor Car after changing into her usual outfit and began scrolling through her contacts to the Stellaron Hunters. Silver Wolf would definitely answer, but she may not have the answers she wanted. Blade…is out of the question, he probably never even used a phone before. Kafka was her best option, but it's possible that she'd just be vague or on a mission and won't be able to answer her in time.

"Worth a shot." She muttered as she sent her message to Silver Wolf's contact since Kafka never uses a contact to begin with. "Please don't leave me on read…"

Stelle: Hey, is Kafka there? Something is up with me right now. I need your help.

To her surprise, her answer was almost immediate. Even better, it was the person she was looking for.

"Silver Wolf": It's me. What troubles the mind?

Stelle: I've gotten these weird memories of a past life. One I didn't know about at all. Did you have anything to do with them?

"Silver Wolf": is typing…

"Silver Wolf": No.

Stelle stared at the message. Was she actually serious?

Stelle: Silver Wolf, you better not be trolling.

"Silver Wolf": It's still me, Stelle. Your guess about your past life is as good as mine.

Stelle: …

Stelle: Do you have anything at all?

There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation. Stelle was starting to think if this was a bad idea, and she had just wasted Kafka's time. Fortunately, a reply came.

"Silver Wolf": Normally I can't tell you yet, as all will be revealed in time. However, the sudden resurgence of your memories was something even Elio didn't expect so I'll let you in on what I know.

"Silver Wolf": I can start with how we found you.

She narrowed her eyes; this was about to get interesting.

Stelle: Go on.

"Silver Wolf": When you were given to us by Elio, you were…difficult to deal with.

"Silver Wolf:" The first thing you did when you woke up was stab Blade's with a pencil, concussed me and nearly took Wolfie's head off with my sword. I needed to restrain you to stop further injuries.

Silver Wolf: i can vouch, called blade a pirate for a week -silver wolf

The Trailblazer gulped. She was no stranger to fighting in self-defense and has beaten her fair share of bad guys, but she was never this vicious. Whatever world she came from must've been so harsh to make her act that way…or was her past even pure in the first place?

Stelle: Difficult is an understatement.

Stelle: I didn't see any scars on Blade's eyes though?

"Silver Wolf": Don't worry about Bladie, he recovered not too long after. He did say you must've had a lot of experience in killing for you to do something like that. Not a good first impression, I suppose. But we eventually got along, and the rest is history.

And there it is again. Stelle's free hand began to fidget at the thought of her being a killer. She bit her lip; should she ask for more?

Stelle: Did I say anything about me?

"Silver Wolf": Unfortunately, no. It seems you only had muscle memory with you. Every question we asked, you didn't remember. As far as I'm concerned, those memories came up on their own when the Aeon did its little magic trick.

"Silver Wolf": Enjoy your little rest day.

Silver Wolf: Kafka left to get ready for another mission, talk to you soon

She sighed as she turned off her phone, putting her head in her hands. Did she get answers? Not quite. Were those answers ones she wanted? No, absolutely not. Stelle did not like the conclusion everything was pointing to: she used to be a murderer who lived in the middle of the desert, that had to be put down by some rich guy with a golden gun - and somehow ended up with the Stellaron Hunters, then the Astral Express. Yet, despite the bleak past she seemed to have, her curiosity was slowly winning her over. Surely, there has to be more in the gaps between those events.

Stelle looked up from her hands to see everyone slowly gathering at the Parlor Car. It seemed like the time to move to the next Express stop was here. 'Might as well get on with the meeting.' She thought as she walked over to them.

"Good morning, Stelle. Did you sleep well?" Mr. Yang greeted when she came over.

"I wish I did. I'd like Himeko's coffee after this." Stelle answered, much to the surprise of Welt and Himeko. Dan Heng and March did notice the sudden change of taste but weren't too surprised. Since her previous life was merging with her current one, anything could change with her.

"Oh? Since when did you find my blend interesting?" Himeko inquired.

"I need it strong. With everything going on."

Himeko and Welt shared a look, before she nodded. "I see. Well, I can fix you some after our crew meeting."

Soon after Pom-Pom arrived at the group and began to explain what would happen at Penacony; the Family inviting them as guests, the excessive amounts of memoria (which was basically a substance that holds human consciousness and memories, according to the archives), and looking out for any other Nameless there. After the meeting, everyone began to settle down and Stelle went back to her seat at the couches. The coffee Himeko gave her was black and bitter, just the way the navigator liked it. Stelle found strange comfort in the bitter drink, leaving her troubled mind to a calm state. While the thought of vacation at Penacony seems fun, she was more concerned about the memoria. More things to mess with her head is the last thing she wanted, so she hoped it wouldn't leave her mind broken. Stelle didn't even realize she finished the coffee so soon.

"The train is about to jump! Please proceed to your places and hold on!" Pom-Pom announced over the intercom. Stelle closed her eyes, letting the countdown drop.

"3!"

"2!"

"1!"

"STELLE! WHERE ARE YOU?!" The Trailblazer rapidly opened her eyes, hearing her name spoken all of a sudden, before she was greeted with another set of memory flashes. Once again, her mind was overwhelmed as the memories resurfaced. She screamed in pain at the splitting headache, before passing out.

"Where are we?"

"I…think this is the Hub."

Two young fraternal twins walked in the dark streets after getting off from a caravan that they got on all the way in Reddington. Both kids had silvery gray hair for their age, and both had amber eyes. The girl carried a small wooden baseball bat with her, and the boy stayed close to his sister.

"Sis, where do we go now?" The boy asked.

"I'm still thinking, Caleb." The girl gripped her weapon as they walked down the streets, avoiding drug junkies and gangsters that watched them pass by. The blood had long dried into the wood, permanently leaving a scarlet shade on the baseball bat. After settling down in an alleyway lit only by one street lamp, they sat down by the wall. The girl opened her small knapsack to reveal some bread and brahmin meat that was made into jerky. She offered one to her brother Caleb. "Here."

"Thank you." He muttered, taking a bite while the girl ate her own food.

"Stelle?"

"Yeah?"

"Is Mama…?"

The young Stelle stayed silent for a brief moment. She fought back tears and gripped her baseball bat tightly as she found the courage to speak. "I'm sorry, Caleb. Dad didn't stop..."

The boy stared at the ground as he ate his jerky. "...Dad is a piece of shit."

Stelle turned her head in an instant. "Hey, what'd I say about bad words? Don't say that." She scolded, yet she couldn't bring herself to enforce it like she would.

"Does it even matter? It's not like Mama is here anyway." Caleb retorted. "And I hated it when Dad called me that. He's a piece of shit!" He kicked a tin can away, before realizing what he said and sighed. "I-I'm sorry, I'll shut up now.

"No, it's fine…I hate Dad too." Stelle responded with a small smile. "He's far away now, he can't hurt us anymore."

Caleb tried to smile as well, but his grin turned into a grimace as tears fell down his cheeks. "Mama…" This time Stelle didn't say another word as she brought him into an embrace, allowing the both of them to finally mourn since they left their terrible home.

The Trailblazer awoke with a gasp. The headache had ceased but her cheeks felt wet. She sniffed, wiping her eyes as she got up from the couch. It felt like a dream, but Stelle knew it was too real to be one. She didn't even know she had parents, let alone a twin brother.

'Caleb.' She muttered his name. 'I hope he lived a good life.'

Focusing back into her surroundings, she found herself in what looked to be a hotel lobby, with a hallway going down. Was this a part of Penacony? She continued to look around, surprised to see no one showing up…until she heard a voice, one that made her shudder.

"Oh finally, I didn't have to wait a whole week."

She turned to see the man in her memory, leaning against the wall and lighting a cigarette in his mouth. Now that she had a better look at him, he was taller by about a foot than her. And he still wore that damn checkered suit. Stelle clenched her fists. "You."

"That's me, baby." The gangster answered in a smug tone, putting away his lighter into his coat pocket. He looked around the lobby, whistling. "Love what you've done to the place. I must admit this might give the Tops a run for its money."

"What are you doing here?" She demanded.

The man chuckled, puffing a cloud of smoke before speaking. "Shouldn't it be obvious?" Noticing that she did not understand what he was talking about, he suddenly started snapping his fingers at her face as if she was in a trance. "Hello? Benny, head honcho of the Chairmen? The guy you walked across the goddamn desert to track me down?"

Stelle swatted his hand away. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Benny curled up an eyebrow, before he sneered. "Guess I did blow out your brains there. You know, even back then you weren't very bright."

"Keep talking, I can show you how far your head can fly from your neck." She growled, which made Benny laugh.

"There's that bravado you were so famous about." He took another puff. "Alright, I'll bite. I'm not here for no reason, something tells me you need me for help, dig?"

"You don't even know me." Stelle retorted. "You shot me in the head and walked away because of some dumb poker chip?"

"Ah, ah." He wagged his finger like scolding a child. "That 'dumb poker chip' was the whole reason you are who you are now. And it was nothing personal, baby. That's how we played the game, you just got dealt the wrong hand." Benny dropped the cigarette after one final puff and stepped on it to extinguish the embers. "Yet, by some divine-intervention-magical bullshit you survived. And shot me right between the eyes to finish a job."

That seemed to snap Stelle out of her rage for a moment, her clenching of her fists became tighter at the thought. "I'm not a killer."

"Keep telling yourself that." He rolled his eyes. "Look baby, you've been wanting some answers about yourself and I got some. And if you knew anything about business with the cats in Vegas, the deal goes both ways, dig?" He turns to one of the walls in the hallway, which manifests a door from thin air. Benny opens the door, revealing light to be on the other side. "Just step on in."

The Trailblazer furrowed her eyebrows. Here was the man that murdered her in the middle of the desert, claiming that he knew who she used to be before she got on the Express. Everything about him was off: his voice, the way he talked and his demeanor. He looked and acted like a mafia boss, and if he is to be believed he might as well be. But he had a point, she wanted answers. Stelle just wished she didn't have to get answers from Benny of all people.

"How can I trust you?" She narrowed her eyes. The gangster laughed.

"Baby, are you kidding? You of all people should know not to trust me." He shook his head. "I'm playing no tricks here. Last time I did that, I got a third eye, remember?" He pointed a finger gun towards the bridge of his nose and mimicked pulling the trigger. "So are you in or are you out?"

Some time later, a purple haired woman with a long sword wandered into the Reverie Dreamscape to a place where she thought someone might show up, only to find no one there. Acheron blinked in confusion before continuing her walk, looking for an exit…

[...]

The Trailblazer was greeted with a dark room with a single light hanging overhead. The light shone down on a wooden table that was forty-three inches in diameter with a green top. On top sat playing cards, an ashtray, alongside a bottle of some kind of alcohol with two shot glasses. Benny took a seat on one end of the table, while Stelle sat down on the other. She recognized the set up to be some kind of gambling table.

"Telling you the answers straight is boring, so we're gonna play a game." Benny spoke, opening the bottle and taking a whiff. Whiskey. "Hm. Just what I needed." He poured himself a glass before pouring one for Stelle.

Her nose wrinkled as she raised her hand. "Oh, no thanks, I'm not a drinker."

"Now that's just rude." He shook his head in disappointment. "If a man offers you a drink in Vegas, you take it as respect." Benny takes a sip. "Of course, that's just a thing us Chairmen do to keep our style. And besides, you'll end up drinking anyway. All people do."

As the gangster shuffled the cards as the dealer, Stelle stared down at the whiskey. What kind of person was her past self like to drink herself away like that? She glanced towards Benny, who was still doing shuffling tricks with the cards. Fighting the urge to drink it out of spite, she placed the glass down. "Okay, Benny, what's this game you want me to play?"

"Just a simple game of poker." He brandished a few of the cards in his hands with a smirk before giving Stelle her hand to play. "If you still remember how to play."

Stelle's awkward silence was enough for an answer for Benny, and he sighed. "Goddammit…"

After a rather long explanation of the game and the poker hands, the Trailblazer finally caught on after a few practice rounds. The gangster chuckled as he finished his glass and was pouring another. "You know, I thought I've seen bad players before - but never one this incompetent. At least you learn fast."

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes. "So, what's next?"

Benny reshuffled the cards, and gave Stelle a new hand. "Instead of money, we use information instead, dig? If you win a hand, I'll give you your answers. And if I win…" He places his own hand face down on the table. "You lose a life. You only get three, and if all three get used up? Well, you'll just have to figure out another way."

Her eye twitched. All she wanted was just straightforward answers and now this prick decided to make it a game. At least Kafka made sure Stelle got answers. "...fine. I'll play." She took her cards and saw the hand. The playing cards had suddenly changed, instead showing people's faces and their names instead of the regular icons.

She showed her hand. "Flush." She said, a full suite of hearts. Benny put his tongue to his cheek and showed his hand. "Two Pair, Jacks. Alright, lay it on me kid."

"Who am I and where did I come from?"

"One at a time, kid. You are Courier Six. The meanest, most unkillable bastard to ever walk the Mojave desert." He sipped his whiskey. "I don't know where you came from, but I heard you were NCR folk - bunch of thieves they are."

"Wait, what's the-"

"Stop right there, baby. Don't forget our deal." Benny smirked as he reshuffled the deck. Stelle bit her lip as her hand was given. She had to play her cards right, and ask the right questions if she wanted the answers. She tried to read Benny if he had anything good in his hand, but his face was stoic as ever.

She took a deep breath and showed her hand. "High card, Queen."

Benny finally cracked a smirk and showed his hand. "Lucky. High card, Queen. We keep drawing."

The next round wasn't so lucky for Stelle, as she revealed to have a two-pair of tens only to be trumped by Benny with a straight. One life lost, but they kept going. The next round, while Stelle was asking to swap two cards from her hand, she suddenly asked. "Why are you helping me?"

"What?"

"Why are you helping me?"

"You didn't win last round, did you?"

"This isn't about my past right now."

He paused for a moment, before he finished his second glass of whiskey. "All this? It's just a figment of your imagination, baby. Except maybe those memories of yours." He handed her the next hand before he took his own.

"Then what are you?"

He only gives a knowing smile, then puts down his hand. "Straight."

"Full house." Stelle puts down her hand. "Well?"

"A memory." He winked. "You didn't have to waste that question."

"I still got answers." They got to their game and drew their cards. After redrawing cards, they both placed down their hands.

"Three of a kind, sevens."

"Straight Flush." She had a smug smile on her face.

"Bullshit!"

"Hey, you shuffled them."

Benny sighed. "Whatever. You got this cat, baby. So?"

She pondered for a moment before asking. "...how many people have I killed?"

"Hard to say." Benny lit a cigarette in his mouth. "Where do I start? You've killed small-time goons, raiders, Legion, even some NCR that got in your way. Could be over the hundred mark, yeah?."

Stelle's stomach dropped. She had hoped she was wrong, but even near-death couldn't stop her from taking lives. "oh."

"Don't feel too bad about it. Everyone's killed to survive where we came from." Benny puffed out a cloud before he continued shuffling the deck. "Life's a cruel game we gotta play."

"But it doesn't take away the fact that person had their own dreams and their own family." Stelle tried to argue, but the gangster interrupted her.

"Listen, kid. If you think a raider had dreams, it was to kill, steal and rape. If any of those Legion fucks got dreams, it was to take women and force them to slavery. Not all people are saints, baby." He gives her her hand.

Stelle looks at her cards. She knew people can be capable of bad, but she's learned that people can be redeemed and have second chances. "We can still try."

"And that, my friend, is how you get killed out there." Benny places his hand down. "Three of a kind, sixes."

Stelle reluctantly puts down hers. "Two pairs. Kings."

"Another loss." He suddenly checked his watch on his wrist. "Huh. Time to cash out."

'Cash out?' "What do you mean cash out?"

"Our time is up." He suddenly pulls out a pistol, the one that he shot her in the head with. Stelle stood up quickly, thinking he'd shoot her again. Instead, he slid the firearm across the table towards her. "This place isn't always a place of memories. If you see it, kill it. Catch you on the flipside, baby."

Stelle caught the gun, inspecting the pistol in her hands. "Kill…what?" Before she could understand what was said, a loud crash came from behind her. "What the hell?" She blinked, suddenly finding herself in a long hallway of white tiles. The lone ceiling light multiplied as they lit up the hallway. One of the lights at the end of the hallway was flickering, the brief glimpses into the darkness revealing to be a figure in some kind of black armor with glowing red eyes. Something was wrong with the entity, that staring at it suddenly made her ears ring from tinnitus - like a firecracker went off next to her ear. She covered her ears, stumbling around with the gun in her hands.

Faint whispers grew to loud voices and began to fill her head as the armored figure got closer. There were so many of them that Stelle was struggling to even stand from how disorienting it was - but all of them were trying to say the same thing.

"Murderer."

"Why did you leave us to die?"

"You're better off dead."

"STELLE."

The armored figure walked up to the incapacitated Trailblazer and held her up by the neck tightly. Stelle choked and struggled, trying to pry the hand away from her neck. The armored figure tilted their head before throwing Stelle to the wall, suddenly unsheathing a combat knife.

"Where's your fighting spirit, Courier?" The voices began to goad her as the Trailblazer tried to get up, narrowly dodging a stab. The armored figure moved dangerously fast, with swift and precise strikes towards her body and neck. The Trailblazer tried to dodge, but she was too quick. Eventually, Stelle made a slip-up, moving to the left just as the figure threw a kick towards her head. She was sent to the floor, slightly concussed.

"You've gotten soft, Stelle." The figure then thrusted the blade into her hand. Stelle cried out in pain, as a multi-colored fluid came from the wound.

"You can't win." The voice mocked her again, drawing another weapon - some kind of magnum revolver. The figure drew the hammer. "You should've died in that graveyard."

There has never been more of an appropriate time to curse. This was a dream, it had to. But it felt like she was actually going to die… However, she wasn't going down alone. With her other free hand, she quickly grabbed the pistol and aimed it at the armored figure's neck from under the chin. "You don't control me!"

BANG!

Stelle awoke with a gasp, clutching her chest. Her hand patted her torso in a panic to see if anything had been punctured. She sighed in relief, seeing that the nightmare was just a harmless dream.

Suddenly, an excruciating pain came as she tried to move her hand - and Stelle's eyes widened as she saw the large gash on her hand. "W-What…?"

"Stelle? I heard something and- oh no!" Pom-Pom suddenly appeared and gasped, before he waddled off presumably to get help. Moments later, Dan Heng and Welt had entered the Parlor Car to see blood on the floor. "What happened?" Mr. Yang asked her while Dan Heng went to her hand and began applying pressure with a spare cloth.

"I-I don't know. I had this weird dream and something attacked me, and somehow…"

"Stelle, calm down." Dan Heng got to work, putting in antiseptic and bandaging it. It wasn't long before he finished treating her wound. "Take it slow. I need details."

She nodded, before describing to Welt and Dan Heng what happened.

"I don't get it. How can something in a dream hurt me here?"

"I've read about these in the archives. Memetic entities. Beings made from the ideas of people." Dan Heng explained. "It's possible your memories must've manifested it or gotten its attention."

"It's also possible your tolerance to memoria isn't the greatest after your incident." Welt added. "A vacation with a monster hunting you in your dreams is the last thing we need."

"Heck of a horror movie plot." Stelle tried to lighten the mood, which did crack smiles with Mr. Yang. "But what about you guys? I can't be dead weight."

"I suggest you don't go into combat; your wound might reopen when it's supposed to be healing." Dan Heng said, packing away the first aid.

"Don't worry about us, Stelle. You need the rest more than ever. If you decide to join, you'd be under surveillance when we're in realms deep in memoria. Just in case something goes wrong." He answered. "However, you are free to decline."

"Thanks, but...no, I don't want to miss out on Penacony. Nightmares be damned." Stelle answered, standing up. She looked at her bandaged hand. "I'll go get better gloves for these then." She gets up from the couch. "Thanks Dan Heng, Mr. Yang." She bows her head slightly before heading for her room to prepare.

'Hopefully the only misadventures I have to worry about are just whatever Penacony drags me into…'